


Seems Safe In Here

by abadmeanman



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: DJWifi, F/M, Gen, ML Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abadmeanman/pseuds/abadmeanman
Summary: After getting tossed into the panther enclosure, Nino and Alya always seem to have the best dates when superheroes relocate them. These days, Ladybug and Chat Noir often seem to whisk them away mid-date.Probably a coincidence.
Relationships: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26





	Seems Safe In Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [supergirl9130](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergirl9130/gifts).



> A Miraculous Ladybug Secret Santa gift for @supergirl9130!

Ladybug’s yo-yo twirled in a nearly-opaque circle, deflecting the blast of lightning before it could so much as rumple Nino’s cravat. Her save was so impressive that Nino was - temporarily - _relieved_ that he’d actually decided to _wear_ the cravat. It was awkward to don the accessory, sure, but the extra-spruced-up look he was sporting made him look dapper as all get out, _and_ upped the drama of being saved by Ladybug. Sure, getting dramatically electrocuted by a lightning bolt so that your skeleton shows through your skin is bad and everything, but how much _worse_ would it be if it _also_ ruined your whole look? Just another way to add just a teensy bit more of a zip to the thrill of getting rescued by Ladybug.

* _Click_ *

And of course, thought Nino, it did make him look even better on camera.

… Or perhaps, though Nino immediately afterwards, he’s been spending far too much time around fashion people.

“Oh hell yes! Thanks, Ladybug, that was an _amazing_ tableau!” said Alya, still snapping away with her date night camera. It was smaller than her professional camera, but not by much; just about the largest size that could fit in a “grandma purse” (Alya’s words, not Nino’s). At least she hadn’t brought the zoom lens tonight; the restaurant they had reservations at was pretty fancy, after all, and they tended to frown on people with meter-and-a-half-long audiovisual equipment cases in their dining room. Something of a tripping hazard, clear fire exit access, et cetera.

Their erstwhile savior looked over her shoulder at them, heaving a superpowered sigh.

“For the last time,” said Ladybug, knowing for a fact it wouldn’t be. “I do _not_ save people in front of you just so you can get good action shots!” She punctuated her reprimand (such as it was) with between thirty and forty back handsprings and a sliding dodge under a DHL truck. “This is a coincidence! Just like every previous time!” she added, as she slid into a Fiat and made it look _cool_.

“Absolutely, my Lady,” said Chat Noir, as he bonked an above-water iceberg away from the trio with a well-timed staff extension. “But it’s still a nice sentiment, no?” He leaned on his cane, silhouetting himself in pose against the backdrop of a magically-conjured akuma glacier, smashed haphazardly into an office building. In the background, Ladybug luckied up a charm, as she rolled her eyes.

Not one to waste an opportunity, Alya spun to see what angles he had to work with (plenty) and capture his good side (either one).

“See, now _that_ is a superhero who knows how to appreciate my talents,” said Alya, sticking her tongue out at Ladybug. “Maybe I’ll give _him_ the good photo spread this time.”

“You know I’m fine with that!” said Ladybug, as she retrieved a red-and-black-spotted Slap-Chop™ from where it had appeared mid air. “But could you _please_ take cover or something? This Stormy Weather is even worse than the last one.”

“Remains to be seen,” said Chat Noir. “And I believe that she was quite adamant that we call her Stormy Weather 3: Tokyo Drift.”

“I’m not doing that,” said Ladybug, squinting and glancing around the battlefield. “Chat, get those two civilians out of the way somewhere - like maybe that romantic, candle-lit restaurant, or something.”

Nino was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed her wink at him.

* * *

“Oh hell yes,” said Alya, snapping away as Ladybug saved Nino’s adorable skin from a lightning blast. Flipping back through her camera roll with the dexterity of long practice, she found a few snaps that were particularly satisfying - Nino looking both cute _and_ startled witless, and Ladybug looking (as always) resplendent. “Thanks, Ladybug! That was an _amazing_ tableau.”

“For the last time, I do _not_ save people in front of you just so you can get good action shots!” said Ladybug, doing exactly that. “This is a coincidence, just like every previous time!” Saying that, she executed some of her traditional superpowered acrobatics, deftly avoiding damages and strikes - and they were all captured by sequential snaps of Alya’s shutter.

“Absolutely, my Lady,” said Chat Noir. “But it’s still a nice sentiment, no?” With a deft flick of his baton, he transferred an iceberg from dead ahead, to slightly to the side, where it landed (completely safely) on an unoccupied city bus. There was always an unoccupied city bus when you needed it; one of the nicest things about Paris. A city bus getting crushed was so banal that Alya ignored it entirely, choosing instead to snap a few shots of Ladybug’s lucky charm; it looked like it was a red-and-black-spotted Slap-Chop™. “Sure, why not,” said Ladybug under her breath, just within Alya’s range to hear.

Alya smirked, because it was time to be a little bit insufferable at her favorite hero.

“See, now _that_ is a superhero who knows how to appreciate my talents,” said Alya, gesturing at Chat Noir and snapping a few glamour shots of him. The feline fella was surprisingly good at working the camera, almost enough to make one wonder… Nah, nevermind, probably no need to make any connections about that fact. “Maybe I’ll give _him_ the good photo spread this time.”

“You know I’m fine with that!” said Ladybug, puzzling over her lucky charm. “But could you _please_ take cover or something? This Stormy Weather is even worse than the last one.” Still furrowing her brow, she lightly kicked a spare minivan into the path of a narrowly-focused hailstorm, protecting Nino almost on autopilot.

“Remains to be seen,” said Chat Noir. With a shrug, he extended his baton, moving to intercept the akuma victim’s next attack. “And I believe that she was quite adamant that we call her Stormy Weather 3: Tokyo Drift.”

“I’m not doing that,” said Ladybug. “Chat, get those two civilians out of the way somewhere - like maybe that romantic, candle-lit restaurant, or something.” In an instant, Chat gave her a little salute, and turned to swoop Nino and Alya up with his staff, hefting it onto his shoulders with what was probably a small purr of effort. At a brisk jog, he hoofed them in the opposite direction of the villain, giving them both a smile.

Alya was pretty sure she was the only one who noticed him wink at her.

* * *

It had taken a little getting used to, but Nino’s favorite dates with Alya were always the ones where they got interrupted by an akuma attack, and often relocated by Paris’ preeminent superheroes. Something about the combination of danger, romance, sheltering-in-place turning into cuddling-in-place, or similar factors just really brought everything together to an ideal evening of intimacy.

Maybe it was an aftershock of their early relationship, when they’d gotten together after Ladybug had hurled them into a panther enclosure.

… Or the time Chat Noir had secreted them away in the cool (and not creepy) part of the Paris catacombs, while Grim Brulee menaced the city.

… Or when they’d been sequestered in Gustave Eiffel’s office at the top of his titular tower, delivered on a magical yo-yo zipline, as the Arch Architect rearranged the Paris skyline.

… Or perhaps even the time they’d gotten deposited on top of Oscar Wilde’s tomb for some reason, during the second Stormy Weather attack - better known to Parisians as the terror of 2 Stormy 2 Weather.

Regardless, every time Ladybug or Chat Noir spirited them out of harm’s way and into a safe (if not always romantic in the strictest sense) locale, their time together there was always _excellent_. Whether it was an actual restaurant, or a great view, or a spooky ambiance, they were some of his favorite moments with Alya. She even stopped talking about Ladybug and Chat Noir, eventually! Usually.

So, it didn’t take Nino long to come up with a proposal.

* * *

Exactly as they’d planned, Chat Noir sent Alya sliding down the Chat-baton and directly into the well-cushioned seat of the bistro. A waiter - no stranger to akuma attacks mid-service - was already placing a menu in front of her before she’d had a chance to smooth out her blouse, and Nino had already ordered appetizers and was going to town on a breadstick.

Akumas had ceased being a meaningful threat to Parisians years ago, after all. Hawk Moth had clearly lost a bit of his zing, if the three hundred and eighty consecutive Mr. Pigeon attacks indicated anything… anything more than Mr. Ramier’s consistent disregard of public park rules, or Officer Roger’s stick-up-the-assedness, at least.

“Well, this place seems pretty safe,” said Alya, holding back a smirk. “And it looks like LB and CN are directing the akuma to other parts of the city.” Next to her, a silvery baton thunked down onto the table, having extended from dozens of meters away. Her purse slid down it, and she grabbed it without looking. “Thank you!” she said over her shoulder.

“You’re welcome, anonymous citizen I don’t know!” said someone in the distance, who may or may not have been a superhero, as she checked her purse for some odd or end.

She turned to her boyfriend with a sneaky little smile. “Wowie. We barely made it out of there alive. What a lucky break, right Nino?”

“Yeah, totally, girlfriend-dude, and it’s also super coincidental, is what I think. Anyways I hear the scallops are like, totally dope here.” He put down his menu and looked at her, _very_ seriously. “We’d better take some time to relax and unwind after that totally jarring experience. Dang, I guess we better probably have dinner as a part of that huh.”

“Right you are,” said Alya. “I’m practically quivering in my heels. And I think I _will_ try the scallops, thank you for the suggestion.”

The mark of a very lovely date can often be that few details stick in your mind, but that the feeling of the entire night is unquestionably thrilling. As Alya discovered that the scallops were, indeed, totally dope, and as Nino sampled a wide array of crudites, the specifics blended and blurred, and became the comfortable warmth of a very lovely evening, with very lovely company, in a very lovely relationship. And thanks to the superheroes saving Paris on the other side of town, there was nary an interruption.

* * *

Three hours later, a trenchcoated Nino met a similarly-attired, and nominally anonymous individual, in a darkened alley, guarding a slightly-steaming paper box.

“I hope you found our arrangement… satisfactory. Do you have the payment?” asked the mysterious figure, from beneath their mysterious noir fedora and popped trenchcoat collar. A pair of blue-black pigtails poked out the back, where hat and coat met, and as the mysterious figure reached out an eager hand towards Nino, a slice of moonlight through a gap in the clouds illuminated red gloves, with black spots.

Nothing notable about that.

“Yeah, Lady-dude, no problem,” said Nino, as nonchalantly as possible. “I mean, uh, no problem, anonymous stranger.”

“What is it this time?”

“Fritters. There are some plain ones, but the ones without the holes have apple in ‘em. Hope they turned out well, dude. And like, excellent work as always.” He winked, placing the box in the mysterious figure’s hand.

Said figure leaned over, giving the box a good sniff, revealing a bit more mask in the light of the moon. She inhaled deeply, savored, and sighed. Fritters - apple especially - were one of her favorites. Nothing wrong with a little fried dough.

“Same deal next time?” asked the mysterious and anonymous figure in a red-with-black-spots superhero suit and pigtails, tucking the box under her arm and pulling her yo-yo out of the trenchcoat’s pocket. “Where were you thinking?”

“Oh yeah totally, tonight was super great. Could you maybe, uh, shepard us into the 8:00 showing of _Rhinoceros_ at Theatre Montparnasse, on Saturday? And… make it look like a coincidence.”

“Of course. I’m a professional, after all. Me and my… associate… will see to it that you are able to safely take cover, and get entertained by a little theater of the absurd while you’re at it, no problem.” She reached out her hand, taking Nino’s and giving it a firm shake. “The pact is sealed.”

“It’s still hilarious that you always say that, dude,” said Nino, watching his not-so-mysterious contact yo-yo away across the rooftops of Paris.

* * *

Across the city - exactly one alleyway across, to be precise - Alya was hurrying away from her dead drop spot where she’d left the parcel, in its insulated wrapping. Moments later, and even more nonchalantly, a nondescript figure in horn-rimmed glasses with a fake nose and mustache attached retrieved the innocuous package, holding it under a completely unremarkable arm that may or may not have been wearing magical superhero leather.

The completely mundane figure adjusted his cat ears under the completely mundane beret he was wearing, and took a seat on a local park bench.

Which just so happened to be placed back-to-back up against another park bench that Alya happened to be sitting on, nonchalantly reading a newspaper.

“Did you… find what you were looking for?” she said, speaking to the empty park rather than the person on the bench behind her and to the left.

“I did,” said the mysterious figure, flipping out his own newspaper and pretending to read it. “I take it my performance tonight met all of your expectations?” He raised an eyebrow - Alya could practically hear it in the tone of his voice.

“Eminently so,” said Alya. “Same deal for next time?”

The figure nodded, then remembered that the person he was conversing with wasn’t looking in his direction. “Certainly. My… _sources_ … suggest a theatrical engagement next Saturday. After the play, well… I’m open to suggestions.”

Alya tapped her chin in thought.

“See to it that we have an uninterrupted path from the theater to that new cafe where you get to hang out with owls. I trust you’ll find _this_ satisfactory,” she said, casually dropping a slip of paper onto the bench seat behind her. Just as casually, the mysterious figure retrieved it, examined it, and nodded because of it.

“The arrangement continues.”

“This conversation never happened.”

With nothing further spoken, they went their separate ways, one completely normal blogger and one completely unremarkable man with cat ears in black leather launching into the night off of a silver baton.

* * *

“Think we should tell them?”

“Ever? Sure. Soon? Nah,” said Chat Noir, twirling another one of Nino’s fritters around his finger. It was his fifth, but calories don’t count when you’re superheroing. “I think this is one of those ‘leave it all ambiguous’ kinda things. If we don’t say anything, they can always pretend it’s a coincidence.”

“Mmi guepmhs you’re rmphght,” said Ladybug, agreeing around a mouthful of guava sorbet - Alya’s bribe for tonight’s shuttle service. She swallowed and made a contented sound. “Do you think we’re playing it up a little too much? I’m worried they might catch on.”

“Also nah,” said Chat Noir. “It’s going to be _much_ funnier when they realize they’ve both been patting themselves on the back for setting up their little dates.”

“Can’t argue with that,” said Ladybug. “Though I do feel a tiny bit guilty that we’re playing both sides here.”

“Just a tiny bit?”

“... Maybe a _teensy_ tiny bit,” she said after another spoon of sorbet. “They’d probably still make treats for us even if they knew, right?”

“Ah, the sweet mysteries of love.” Chat Noir reclined back against the rooftop with a sigh. “Anyways, what did he promise you for next date night?”

“Chebaika. It’s a fried dough thing with honey and sesame seeds, and it’s apparently really good. What did Alya say she’d get you?”

“Coconut blancmange, with passionfruit and mango. She showed me a picture, and it looked incredible.”

They licked their lips and imagined, for a moment. Then, they looked at each other, thoughts synchronized as tightly as during any akuma fight.

“... You’re gonna share, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays!


End file.
